


Of Diligence and Dragonstompers

by My_Dear_Watson



Series: Saints and Sinners [1]
Category: Fable (Video Games), Fable 2 (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6029706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Dear_Watson/pseuds/My_Dear_Watson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Reaver returns to Albion after a long journey away, he comes back to find that Sparrow isn’t quite the golden child he left behind. He sees how he could use that to his own advantage, but she sees a similar outcome with putting up with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been debating reworking and reposting this fic after abandoning it for years, and here I am, finally doing it. Anyway, after getting fed up with a bunch of the latest Reaver/Sparrow fics that do absolutely no justice to Reaver, and the slight prodding by a couple of people on here, I figured I’d give my own shot at a R/S fic. And so Green was born.

 

Reaver had never been so happy to be back in Bloodstone. It had been a long, harrowing journey, despite all the fun travelling and murders. But now, he was back in Bloodstone, the glorious town was his again. The buildings were bright, the people were laughing and smiling, the vendors were busy with customers, a statue of a woman flourishing a sword looked out on the sea… he stopped in his tracks.

The buildings were  _bright and freshly painted._

The thugs, whores and commonfolk looked _happy_.

The shops were _thriving._

The statue didn’t bear  _his_  likeness.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong, and that would  _just not do_.

He drew his Dragonstomper and pointed it at the nearest villager. “You there! What has become of this place? Who is in charge?"

The villager gaped at him for a while, then finally sputtered out an answer. “That’d b-b-be Lio-Lionheart, Mister Reaver! Moved in a whiles after you left an’ took to fixin’ things up!" he replied.

"Thank you!" Reaver replied before promptly shooting the man right through the heart.

 _Kill the messenger_ , that’s what he always said; _it sent a message_. And it was far better to be feared then loved anyway. Whoever said it was the other way around was drunk or selling something. So this Lionheart had not only taken his town, but his mansion as well. He hoped the booby traps he had set had done their jobs for the poor fellow. But now, it had been a day since he had killed before the last two poor souls just now. The Dragonstomper was just getting re-warmed up, why stop now? He had a city to reclaim.

And so he started his trek up to the Mansion, glaring at any passerby who bothered to smile at him. They were not supposed to be happy in his town. Satisfied, at most, but not happy. He would’ve shot them all down had he not desired to hold onto his ammunition for the sake of firing it into Lionheart and in turn his corpse.

He made it, growling even more when he saw there was some fancy to-do going on. People were in their finest, laughing away in the courtyard and foyer, as it seemed. He shoved his way through the crowd, and when he made it into the foyer he risked firing off a shot straight up into the air, sending a chunk of ceiling falling onto the poor sod beside him. “My good people, my darling ladies and lowlives, I have been informed this place has an imposter! And as your lord, I insist that you tell me where this lovely fellow is if you plan on living any time during the next hour!" he announced. The crowd merely stared, talking amongst themselves quietly. Reaver was about to risk firing off another shot, when a single voice broke out above the rest.

It was his own. He turned towards the sound, only to see a piece of parchment that the voice seemed to be coming from floating down from above. He realized after a moment it was one of his journal entries that he had left for the bastard who had the nerve to move in on his territory. And then it hit him.  _Oh, how clever._  He knew what that was supposed to be. He had used that kind of distraction time and time again, but this… this was new. But he knew what that meant. And so he turned sharply, pointing the Dragonstomper in the exact opposite direction the paper had fallen from. Without looking away from the paper, he sighed dramatically. “Now Lad, Lionheart, whatever your name is. You must be knew to all this, to me. Let me make myself clear when I say I’m not one to take kindly to people who steal my things when I’m away-"

"Oh, believe me Reaver, I do."

Reaver froze for a moment. Now he knew that voice, too. He sneered and turned. “Well well, Sparrow! I should’ve known! Really!" His grin only grew when he found that, as expected, the Dragonstomper was pointed right between her eyes. “Isn’t this a familiar situation?"

"Mostly, but there’s a little something added this time around," Sparrow replied with a shrug.

Reaver’s grin faltered for a moment until he felt metal at his chin and looked down to find she had her own gun pointed right below his chin, just out of direct eyesight.  _Clever girl._  “You’ve learned,"

"You haven’t," Sparrow countered.

Reaver smirked and raised his gun again, this time only in order to make a dramatic flourish out of putting it back in its holster. “Really, my dear. We must catch up. It’s been too long,"

Sparrow matched his smirk, then shrugged dramatically herself before turning to the bigger part of the crowd. “Party’s over, ladies and gents. See you tomorrow."

The partygoers mumbled protests, but eventually started clearing out. They knew now that their former ‘master’ was back and apparently chipper with their latest hero, there would be Hell to pay if they disobeyed.

Reaver waited for the last few guests to leave before speaking again. “So, you go by Lionheart, now? Been on many brave adventures in my absence, I assume?"

"Someone’s got to try and save the world without killing off all its population," Sparrow replied. “So, how were your adventures? Make any new enemies? Throw any more people to the Shadow Court?"

"Of course. Shame you couldn’t accompany me, you woud’ve made my arm all the prettier," he replied, leaning against the wardrobe in the office as she made her way over. He took a chance to look her over when her back was turned. She was still Sparrow, young, barely a grey hair on that lovely head, but there were plenty of scars lining her back, arms and visible cheek. Balverines’ doings, by the look of some of the lines. It was a tragedy, with a face that may have been about fifth to his, on a good day. The months had clearly not been kind physically where they had been economically. “I do hope you’re not expecting to keep my property now that I’ve returned."

"Oh, I don’t know. I personally like the place too much. You might be able to make it last in a guest room…. or I can sell you The Hook, if you see fit."

"Being that it was all mine  don’t see the point in buying it back. You were just the caretaker,  _Darling."_ He advanced on her, only to find the heel of a boot at his chest. And then he finally got a look at the clothing- the boots and pants in particular. He quite appreciated the little top that hardly left anything to the imagination up above. But those were definitely boots made for one regal crowd. He wasn’t sure about the pants but they were well put together. And then he remembered just who this Sparrow-Turned-Lionheart was. The hero of Bowerstone, of Albion, of All. Destined for greatness that at one point he would have been happy to ride the coattails of. “So tell me, little Chickadee, are you royalty yet? Do you have them feeding out of your hands?" 

Sparrow shrugged. “Not yet, but Teresa-" 

"Ah yes, the foul witch. How is she?" 

"Fine, the last I checked. How’s Garth?" Sparrow countered. 

Reaver smirked. “Not as great," he replied, then sneered once again when the old Sparrow, the one that would have worried so much about her friends being hurt, flashed in front of him when she looked worried for a moment. 

"What did you do to him?" 

"Nothing that a being like that couldn’t handle with a fair bit of difficulty," Reaver replied. “So, your Future Highness, what brings your regal hide to the sewer of Albion, hm? What has you buying my city out from under me? Your base for your kingdom? Starting off low, working your up?"

"Lands, cleaning up the mess that you left," Sparrow shrugged.

"So you still haven’t changed as far as looking out for the innocents- even ones who don’t deserve our care," Reaver mused. “You still enjoy being a bratty little angel. I should’ve known,"

 "I enjoy money, Reaver. And your pretty little town was just about the easiest way to get it. If the townspeople are happier with me running the show, so be it," Sparrow replied. 

Reaver wanted to grin. So he was wrong- partially. It was greed that had corrupted the little innocent he had tried to take under his wing that while ago. Oh, this was sweet. And poetic. And glorious… for him. Oh, he could see the plan forming in his head now. He shifted so her thigh was no longer blocking his chest and lay parallel with his hip. “Well then, I have a little proposition for you, Dove. You want money, I want my town, we have the power… what do you say to a little arrangement, hm? For old times sake? Hero to Hero?" for a moment, he thought she would laugh him off like she always did. Yell at him. Finally snap after giving as good as she got like she had when they traveled together. It would’ve proven him wrong again. But then he saw the cogs turning. Hook, line, sinker. He had just conned royalty. Not so clever after all. She looked interested. 

Oh, this would be so much  _fun_. 


	2. Chapter 2

“REAVER!”

Reaver turned sharply at Sparrow- Lionheart, whatever her name was’ call over the maniacle laughter behind him that drowned out most any other sound around them.

 He had to admit, the last few hours of his life back at her side had been… entertaining. He had followed her around Bloodstone, trying to get what was left of his dark reputation in Bloodstone back, and they had come across some drunken oaf named Jack, who had spun some old wives’ tale about Captain Dread returning from the watery grave that he had left him in. He had been skeptical when Lionheart foolishly bought the bastard a beer (last he had checked she was firmly against encouraging a drunkard’s habit), and then he had gone on and on, then upon seeing Reaver, had gone on that Dread was desperate for a rematch. When Sparrow had gone off immediately to investigate, he had gone after her, fully expecting to come across the drunkard in some sort of ridiculous costume. So the ghost crew had been a surprise- albeit a pleasant one. He hadn’t slaughtered that many people in a row, living or dead, and well, if it didn’t take him back to better times, he didn’t know what did. He and Sparrow had ended up back to back at one point, and it pulled him out of his reminiscing of old to think on one of his first memories with the woman, in his escape tunnel with Lucien’s men. The accompanying rush was nice, and he told Sparrow as much. It was meant to dig at her, since his commentary had annoyed her the first time, but he had looked back at her to see her behead one of the ghosts and send him back an answering arrogant grin that sent all feelings to his nether regions. 

Now, the ghost of Captain Dread himself had come out of hiding. It had gone smoothly so far, with Sparrow shooting fire spells at him when he tried to put as many bullets into Dread as he could, swearing that if Dread wanted to challenge him, he was going to damn well lose again. Sparrow had ended up slowing them down in the long run, ducking when she should’ve been dodging, and it was enough to give Dread the upperhand briefly. Reaver had taken a dive towards the bow of the ship to get cover and reload, and Dread had used the opportunity to get what might nearly have been a killing blow if Sparrow hadn’t gotten him to look up just in time. Of course, he had to look up at some point, so what was the point in giving her credit?  He levelled his Dragonstomper at Dread’s forehead. “Looks like it’s two to zero, old chap! Do learn from this avoid coming back from a rematch, eh?” he suggested before pulling the trigger. He wanted to gawk when the bastard’s head snapped back, visibly bled from the crown of his forehead, then looked back at Reaver, roared, and brought his sword back-

Only to suddenly go flying backward at the sound of a gunshot.

Reaver watched the bastard hit the ground, then burst into those strange little orbs that Sparrow always seemed to attract. He continued to stare for a while, then squinted past where Dread’s body had been to see Sparrow holding out her own Dragonstomper, having taken the shot. That same confident smile was back.

She tilted her head. “Sorry, were you attached to sending him to Hell again? Or could you part with the glory, just this once?” she called.

Oh, yes. The Sparrow he knew was long gone. Or maybe she was always there, but in small doses. She had flirted back when they first met, including a thickly veiled attempt at inviting him to her bed that he saw right through and refused because she still had been a nobody back then. She had been mostly all smiles and innocence with something that refuted those qualities behind those eyes. At least he had that version of her back now.  Still, there was no way he was letting her in on that. “If you’re expecting a thank you, you won’t get it,” Reaver countered.

 “I wasn’t,” Sparrow countered. She strolled over, then passed him and had the nerve to run her hand across his chest, then pat it when she had left arm’s length.

She hadn’t been capable of that last time, that was certain. He was just short of intrigued now. He needed to know what had changed her. He watched her go back into Dread’s quarters and came back with paper. “Map to the treasure, and a lever… probably to launch that ship. What say you, Pirate King? Ready to steal Dread’s ship again?” She twirled the lever piece like it was a dagger.

“Of course. You know, my little Chickadee, all this buttering me up makes me figure you want something.”

“What makes you think I don’t?” she shot back.

Reaver smirked back at her, then when she held the lever out to him, he held his hands up. “You know, I was always not too fond of the whole ‘women on ships is bad luck’ bit. Instead, I’m always a firm believer in letting a beautiful woman christen the ship when it’s about to meet the water…” he countered.

She finally rolled her eyes at him, then walked over to the set of gears that the lever was notably missing from. She set it in the contraption and pulled the final product, and the Marianne creaked above them before the set of chains it was hanging from started to lower as the water level rose to meet it.  

Reaver watched it go, and when it hit the water and the chains released, he laughed. “I wish we kept the bastard alive just a little longer for him to see me take his life and his ship all over again. I almost feel sorry for him… no, that’s a lie.”

“What a surprise…” Sparrow mused.

Reaver turned back to her. “Though, I wouldn’t mind your assistance in christening it in other ways, hm? I mean, if memory serves, we owe each other at least one romp in the sack.” He advanced on her and put his arm out just over her shoulder to trap her between his body and the rockface behind them.

Sparrow, to her credit, ducked under his arm. “Can we get to that treasure now or not?”  she questioned. She walked over to the edge of the walkway and jumped onto the ship.

Reaver set his jaw, then after a moment of consideration, shrugged and followed her. Sure, he needed some female company, but when it was company or riches, well, he could deal with riches winning. Besides, Bloodstone was still crawling with women who were that way inclined, so it was just a short waiting game.

Though getting Sparrow at least invited to one of his parties was going to be a priority once things got settled again. _If_ they got settled. He had to hand it to Sparrow again when she tapped the helm of the ship and looked at him expectantly. “Well, go on, Pirate.”

“Right-o.  So, why do I get invited on this part of the trip, hm? You know I’m likely to just kill you to get everything, correct?”

“Because if you want to be richer, you’re going to need me, and you know that.”

“Oh, do I?”

“Darling, I took Bloodstone out from under you and own it all and have your former peoples’ loyalty, the same with all of Bowerstone, and it’ll be the same for all the other cities soon. I’m willing to go fifty-fifty here, then… well, whoever’s project it is gets the full amount for whatever we can dream up.”

“Have a few things in mind do you?” Reaver countered. He glanced up as the Marianne’s sails unfurled themselves and caught a wind. He went to work steering the ship out of the cave. “Alas, I do have a reputation to uphold. Call it seventy-thirty? I could be persuaded for sixty-forty.”

“Fifty-fifty, and you get to keep the ship.”

Reaver paused, considering. Fifty-fifty could’ve made for a measly payout if Dread’s treasure was less than the legends made it out to be. But if it was true to scale, he could still profit, and if he had the ship, that was about twenty different opportunities in one. Oh yes, she’s changed for the better. “Why Sparrow, I do believe we have an accord.”

“Mm-hm. Try to betray me again and you’ll get a bullet between the eyes for your trouble.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Except we both know you would and probably are now.”

“Well now we have a history, do we not?  I’ll behave… unless you don’t want me to.”

“You just don’t quit, do you?”

“Never,” Reaver agreed.

She laughed, then shook her head. “Come on, let’s see if what we get what may be a down payment for my- our little plan.”

“You know, you still haven’t told me what we’re investing in.”

“Albion, my friend. _Albion_.”

* * *

 

As it turned out, Dread was a liar.

His endless treasure turned out to me a mere few thousand gold total.

Reaver was tempted to refuse the whole thing on principle, but Sparrow apparently didn’t give him the time to do it. She just pushed him towards the helm again and started dividing the coin.

When they had made it back to Bloodstone, he had still been tempted to shoot Sparrow dead, take everything and call it a day. But he still was curious about Sparrow’s little Conquering-Albion-Through-Money-and-Friendship disasterous plan would work out, so he kept her alive.

He couldn’t say the same for the drunken fool that had sent them Dread’s way. The drunken fool had strangely been there to meet them. Even stranger, Sparrow had gone to be civil with him, tell them they found it. Like every other thing that he had seen since his return, Reaver ruled that the drunkard living just wouldn’t do, and he permanently silenced him with a bullet to his head. He let silence pass for a few moments before he looked to Sparrow, fully expecting, then receiving the disapproving scowl he knew would be there. Funny, greedy and manipulative as she could get now, but she was still against ‘unnecessary’ murder. Typical. “What? He was going to tell people we found it. We’d have jealous little buggers try to come and steal from me- us,” he pointed out, making the same slip she had.  “So, what’s our first plan with this investment nonsense, hm?”

She took her bag of gold, opened it and fiddled with the coins for a while. “Old Town?”

He scoffed. “My little Chickadee, we might not have much, but if you sought out my help for this, you’re going to have to dream a little bigger.”

“Oh? Then what do you suggest?”

“Map?” Reaver requested, and held out his hand.

Sparrow retrieved it from her pack and handed it over.

Reaver took it. Initially, he had intended to pick a random spot just to go along for the ride to see just how she had been doing, but couldn’t help but notice that Knothole Island was marked off to the side. “Knothole Island? So the stories are true, then.”

“What? That it exists? Yes. It wouldn’t be beneficial now, though. I own most of it, and the people are so clingy now.”

“ ‘Clingy now’? Oh, _do_ tell.”

“Well, after not being appreciated for being the only one who lifted a finger to help anyone in that place, I killed the bastard Chieftan that took all the credit. Apparently people had been wanting to do that for ages but no one had the guts ‘til me.”

Reaver grinned. “Well, how about that. Now I have to see it.”

“It can wait.”

“Please. I never go fully into business with someone before I see what they’re truly capable of.”

“First off, you barely go into business with anyone else. Second, you did see me take down Lucien, so you have seen my capabilities.”

“Now now, Sparrow. We both know it was actually me who took the man down-“

“After you attempted to betray me twice.”

“Well, that’s all in the past now, and the point still stands. Point is let’s see your solo work.”

“Fine,” Sparrow sighed. She started   ahead, then stopped short after a moment. She turned back with that same troublesome grin. “Though I will say you might want to get a coat. It’ll be quite chilly when we get there.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, pet. Though I do appreciate the concern.”

* * *

 

_Chilly._

The conniving little minx had said ‘ _chilly_.’

Everyone's favorite "Lionheart" was a bigger liar that Captain Dread.

As far as Reaver was concerned, his reputation could take a hit on an island in the middle of nowhere. He had no issue crossing his arms over his chest and huddling behind Sparrow as she made nice with the islanders. He was freezing. It was a wonder that all of the villagers didn’t seem bothered. For a place that supposedly had access to control of the weather, they most definitely liked the extremes. And leave it to Sparrow to still be all bubbly as she went from store to store, buying and selling things and asking about how the people were faring with the weather.

Of course she was the one in charge of the weather control. So it was her who was out of her mind for tolerating this cold.

She had most definitely done it on purpose to spite him. Probably making a statement by bringing him to a place where the weather matched… what had she said those years ago? His ‘cold, uncaring heart’? Yes. He had excused himself, claiming that he wanted to see what was on a nearby mountain while he had gone to seek out whatever poor soul he would choose to kill just to have something else to focus on. Three hours and four victims later, he was still freezing.

He added another mark to the mental ‘Reasons to Stop Being Curious and Just Kill Sparrow’ list and tried to move on.

Things proceeded like that for two more days. At one point Sparrow had decided to change the weather after all and when the snow stopped falling and the skies opened to that wonderful, wonderful hot sun, Reaver had gotten rid of half of the mark he had made before.

He was mostly back to himself in the warm tavern when Sparrow had arrived in it. He watched her as she dropped into one of the bastard’s laps, making small talk and getting an ale in the process. She pulled the same con on three other sods before she finally decided to acknowledge his presence. She meandered over and sat in the chair opposite him. “Impressed yet?”

Reaver merely grunted. “Can we leave yet? Being around all his poverty is nightmarish on the skin.”

She scoffed, then put her feet up on the table between them. “Alright then, where to?”

“Well, I have heard Oakfield’s people are nauseatingly generous this time of year…”

“Oakfield it is, then.”


End file.
